


And So It Is

by UAgirl



Category: Passions
Genre: AU, Adult Themes, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Language, Sexual Situations, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UAgirl/pseuds/UAgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheridan moans as she comes to, fights against the drugging darkness of oblivion that grasps and wrenches at her with its greedy hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Title: And So It Is, Prologue  
> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: adult themes/situations  
> Characters/Pairings: Sheridan, references to others  
> Summary: prompt: dim; Sheridan moans as she comes to, fights against the drugging darkness of oblivion that grasps and wrenches at her with its greedy hands.

Thud. 

Thud. 

Scrape. 

Sheridan moans as she comes to, fights against the drugging darkness of oblivion that grasps and wrenches at her with its greedy hands. Her head feels too large, her mouth dry and cottony, her limbs disconnected from her brain.

Thud. 

The noise this time is accompanied by a tickling sensation across her face, light and barely there, similar to that of an insect's crawl. Or that of a spider. The thought makes Sheridan's breath quicken, makes her sluggish heart beat accelerate. The steady, nauseating throb at Sheridan's temple becomes a constant, overpowering thing that makes opening her eyes difficult if not impossible to accomplish, and she becomes aware of her own harsh, panicked panting as the noise is repeated.

Thud. Thud. Scrape. 

The tickling sensation returns, more insistent than before, and a damp, earthy smell fills Sheridan's senses, sharpens her fear-muddled brain, forces open her eyes. A scream crawls forth from her lungs, lodges in her throat, robs her of precious oxygen.

Thud. 

Thud. 

The wood is rough against her palms, splinter-ridden. Thin, pale shafts of twilight creep through its cracks, only to slowly disappear with each metallic scrape. A sob wells against Sheridan's lips when she recognizes the metallic scrape for what it is, catalogues the pungent smell when more earth showers down on her face, rains on her tongue. Tears slither into her hair, sting the bloody wound hidden just beneath its veil as the past minutes, hours, days come back to her. The voices bleed together, play in a constant loop of regret in her aching head.

("You'll never be her. You'll never replace my mom."; "We don't have a future, Sheridan. Surely you can see that. We're from two completely different worlds."; "Are you sure you're okay doing this alone?"; "I told you to stay out of this, Sheridan. It doesn't concern you. But you never learn.")

Thud, thud, thud. 

Sheridan screams as the light grows dim, and finally, disappears.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: And So It Is, Chapter 1  
> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: some language, adult themes  
> Characters/Pairings: Spike, Luis, Ethan, Sam, reference to Theresa, Cranes, minor and original characters  
> Summary: prompt: hold; "Lester is scum. Disgusting, vile scum. But the girl's already rescinded her earlier statement, and the rest of the evidence is so thin, it's transparent. I know you want to eradicate him and his kind from the streets of Harmony, for the safety of your daughter, your sisters, the rest of your family and families like yours. This isn't the case that's going to put him away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story told in non-linear format.

~1~

"I don't have to force myself on my girls, Man," Herbert "Spike" Lester boasted. "They line up. They throw themselves at me."

Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald swallowed back his revulsion and shoved his chair back from his desk, the wheels squeaking in protest at the rough treatment. "Not this girl, Spike. Not this time," he stabbed emphatically at the yellow-lined notepad in his lap with his pen to make his point.

Spike sniffed in indignation, raised his cuffed hands to plow through his messy mop of dark curls. His left leg twitched restlessly, before he adopted an unconcerned slouch, his legs spread wide. His wild eyes were still glassy and bright from whatever high he was coming down from. He cocked his head to the side and considered Luis, and a small smirk bloomed across his generous mouth. "You got nothing. Hell, that little piece of ass practically assaulted me, what, with the way she was kicking and screaming. I got the bite marks to prove it."

"I'm sure you do," Luis couldn't help but let a little bit of his disgust bleed into his voice. "Quinlan," he called over his shoulder to the tall, stoic block of a man that was one of his most trusted colleagues. "Take Mr. Lester down to lock-up. Make sure he's comfortable. He's going to be with us a long time."

Spike regarded Luis with a confident, toothy smile. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Detective." He inhaled, long and slow, his nostrils flaring, and pushed himself back upright with feet flat on the floor as Quinlan approached.

"Did you hear that, Marty? Add threatening a police officer to Mr. Lester's charges, will you?" Luis tossed his pen and his notepad onto Spike's bulging file and eased himself back into his chair as he watched Quinlan haul their suspect to his feet and give him a none-too gentle push forward, not giving him a further chance to resist cooperating. When the pair had disappeared from sight, he turned his gaze to Lester's attorney, Ethan Crane.

Having finally rediscovered his power of speech, the younger man dispassionately agreed with his client. "He's right, you know. You have nothing to hold him on."

Luis lifted a disbelieving brow at the weakly spoken words of defense. "You're phoning it in, Crane. We both know your grandfather's lackey has his hands dirty."

Ethan sighed and loosened the constricting tie at his neck before casting a glance around the near-empty precinct. When he was certain no one was paying the two of them any special attention, he gratefully sank into the chair Luis nudged forward with his foot and rest his briefcase at his feet. Throwing one more furtive look around the station's perimeter, he lifted a tired hand to massage the gathering lines from his youthful forehead. "Off the record?"

"Do I look like the media?" Ethan's blue eyes narrowed, and Luis quickly reconsidered his sarcastic approach. Against his better judgment, he respected this Crane; he couldn't say the same about the rest of them. He softened his harsh tone as he belatedly agreed, "Off the record."

Ethan took a slow, deep breath and lowered his voice to a near-whisper. "Lester is scum. Disgusting, vile scum. But the girl's already rescinded her earlier statement, and the rest of the evidence is so thin, it's transparent. I know you want to eradicate him and his kind from the streets of Harmony, for the safety of your daughter, your sisters, the rest of your family and families like yours. This isn't the case that's going to put him away."

Frustrated, Luis shoved Spike's file aside a little harder than he'd intended, scattering the file's pages and almost toppling a silver picture frame in the process.

Instinctively, Ethan's hand shot out to right the frame before it could fall off of the desk's edge. He hesitated to hand it back to Luis, his gaze drawn magnetically to the sad blue eyes of the young girl in the picture. He looked back up sharply when he realized Luis was speaking again.

"An overnight stay won't hurt him. Maybe it will even help us."

"You say that like we're on the same side," Ethan stated as he stood back up, looked down at the detective that had been a thorn in his family's side for the better part of the last decade. He nodded to the frame in his hands. "She's a beautiful girl, Luis. You have to know, not all of us Cranes took pleasure in the pain of your loss."

Luis's wry smile fell away, twisted into something faraway and haunted before he digested the young lawyer's heartfelt words and snapped back into the present. "I believe we're working toward the same goal. We just have two very different ways of getting there."

Ethan nodded subtly and cleared his throat. He carefully replaced the frame on Luis's desk before bending to reclaim his briefcase. "I hope you don't mind if I take care of a few personal matters before I drop by to finalize Spike's release tomorrow."

"He's not going anywhere," Luis voiced gruffly. "We'll both be here," he promised. He watched Ethan go, his expensive suit sagging resignedly on this thin, weighted shoulders. He startled when he heard Sam's voice nearby, very nearby.

"Poor kid's nothing more than an indentured servant."

Luis had to agree. "He doesn't have that Crane bloodlust for money and power. I can't help thinking that he'd give it all up in the blink of an eye."

Sam Bennett's blue gaze was sharp and focused as a laser as he considered the departed Crane, thoughtful. "Ever wonder what the Old Man's got on him? He hardly seems wet behind the ears."

"Every closet has its skeletons, Sam," Luis quietly reminded him. He picked up a different frame than the one before, this one of a smiling, happy family, of a different time. "You know that."

Sam came around to perch on the edge of Luis's desk, watched him straighten and stow away Lester's file. He lifted his mug of coffee to his mouth, blew gently on it, and sent a curl of steam wafting skyward. Reading Luis's darkening mood easily, he shifted the topic of their conversation to something he hoped was much more agreeable. "How's Theresa doing with the move? She settling in?"

Luis placed the frame back in its designated space and deflected Sam's question with a question of his own, unready just yet to be pulled back from the black abyss of his deeply buried memories. "That your third or fourth cup?"

"Fifth," Sam admitted somewhat sheepishly, his cheeks stained with color. "But who's counting?" He set the chipped ceramic mug down, nudged it aside, and crossed his arms over his middle, waiting patiently for Luis's answer. "You going to rat me out to Grace? You know I'm not too fond of that tea with honey that she loves so much."

"Are you asking as my boss or as my friend?" Luis lightened up enough to grin.

"Both," Sam answered, the smallest of smirks appearing on his lips. "You two getting along, living under the same roof again after all this time?" he asked, steering their conversation back to its original course, one he got the impression Luis would rather avoid altogether. "C'mon," Sam teased lightly. "She's got her own bathroom. It can't be that bad. What I wouldn't give for one bathroom for each female still living in my house." The comment had the desired effect, and Sam breathed a little easier when Luis chuckled and relaxed deeper into his chair, folding his hands over his lower abdomen.

"I thought Kay wanted to move out."

"Summer internships don't pay much, and T.C. put his foot down," Sam replied. "Kay and Simone aren't moving into their own apartment anytime soon."

"Too bad," Luis ribbed his good friend, "because you're seriously outnumbered."

Sam responded with a pointed reminder. "I'm not the only one outnumbered." He lifted the cooled coffee back to his mouth.

Unable to tap dance around the topic any longer, Luis shook his head and released a resigned sigh. "Sometimes I feel like I have two children in the house again."

Sam's eyes twinkled knowingly at first, but his amused expression grew more subdued when Luis likewise grew more serious, realizing what he'd said. "Luis."

"Sam," Luis warned, scrubbing a rough hand over the ghost of a five o'clock shadow. "Don't." Clearing his throat and glancing downward, he took his time before he met Sam's concerned gaze again. "Having Theresa there, it's good. For us both."

"For all of you," Sam told him as he stood back up, made note of the advancing hour. He grimaced momentarily at the pop and strain of his protesting joints and smiled grimly at his friend. "Sitting behind a desk is making me old."

"I thought it was the coffee and donuts," Luis joked.

Sam acknowledged his teasing with a smirk. "Grace invited Miguel over for dinner. What's a few more Lopez-Fitzgeralds?"

Luis politely turned down the invitation. "Maybe some other time. I want to see if I can get Marcy's friend to talk, give us something to tighten the screws on Lester before I head out. I'm tired of watching that piece of garbage walk, Sam." The heated flare of Sam's cool blue eyes told Luis he shared his sentiments on the crooked club owner, even if he did not voice the thoughts aloud.

"Next time I'm not taking no for an answer," Sam informed him as he turned to make his way back to his office and the work that had to be done as Chief before he could call it quits for the day. "I don't want to hear of you closing this place down again."

Luis couldn't resist having the last word. "This place never closes."


End file.
